


Turn Me Upside Down

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: Ever since the day of his suit fitting, he's had many a fantasy of Harold kneeling before him, but Harold has never offered, and John has never asked.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to leave this here. The people who helped inspire this know who they are. ~~*runs away*~~

"I have been thinking," Harold says, as the clock ticks towards midnight. They're in a hotel room, waiting for their number, who is staying one floor above them, to ever do anything interesting.

 

John has a pen in his hand. He keeps clicking it, on and off. The pad of his thumb has a little red circle pressed into the flesh. It's not anxiety, or stress, that has him pressing the switch down over and over, synchronizing its ticks with the clock on the wall. It's sexual frustration.

 

Normally, he's very good at repressing this stuff. He's never been one to fidget, even when extremely bored. But Harold has this new suit. It's a kind of dark turquoise, with a matching vest and a pale blue shirt. The long deliberate creases down the front of his trouser legs are razor sharp. His tie is black, with a subtle swirling pattern which is only visible when the light catches it just right. He hasn't matched it with his shoes. They're a light gray, with white soles. Harold's fashion sense has always been colorful, but tonight he looks ...delectable.

 

They haven't had sex in thirteen days. They've been too busy. John is bursting.

 

"I've been thinking," Harold tries again, licking his lips, "just to pass the time...we could have sex."

 

John lets go of the pen so fast it skids across the tabletop.

 

He's out of his chair and kneeling between Harold's thighs before he can blink.

 

Harold grips the back of John's hair. "No," he says fondly, indulgently, and John is momentarily confused. "Not down there, John." With his other hand, Harold smoothly slides the knot of his tie undone. His thumb strokes the back of John's neck. "Go sit at the end of the bed."

 

John takes a deep breath. He squeezes Harold's knees as he stands up, then follows the instruction. Harold turns back to his laptop for a moment, minimizing the camera feeds from upstairs but leaving an audio alert on standby should anything happen. He leaves his tie neatly rolled up on the desk, gets to his feet and shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping that with careful hands over the back of his chair. As he takes the few steps needed to reach where John is sitting, he flicks a few shirt buttons undone, until he reaches the top of his vest.

 

John makes a sound. He wanted to do that. To strip Harold out of his many fancy layers.

 

Harold smiles, and touches John's chin with his fingertips, angling it up. John presses up into the kiss with undisguised hunger. He feels Harold's arms wrap around his shoulders, as he stands between John's legs. John holds him firm and close and hot, kisses him deeply until they're both breathless, Harold swaying slightly in his grip.

 

He pants at John's cheek, tugs at John's shirt collar. "Off," he says, and John is proud to have reduced him to monosyllables. John shoves his hand down the front of his pants to retrieve his shirt tails (and adjust himself at the same time), undoes the buttons and shrugs out of it. He shifts backwards up the bed, thinking Harold might stretch out on top of him.

 

But Harold shakes his head. "Stay there." He is rolling his own sleeves up, forearms exposed, as he fetches a pillow from the bed. He drops it at John's feet, then sinks smoothly to his knees.

 

John gapes at him. Ever since the day of his suit fitting, he's had many a fantasy of Harold kneeling before him, but Harold has never offered, and John has never asked. He's not prepared for what the sight actually does to him. It seems...backwards, somehow. Humbling. Vaguely troubling. Harold will get wrinkles on his new trousers.

 

He lightly catches Harold's wrist, as Harold works at John's belt.

 

"Problem?" Harold arches an eyebrow at him.

 

John fumbles for words, finds he cannot explain. It's not that he doesn't want...he's just worried... "Are you sure? I...your neck..."

 

"Is fine." Harold replies. He is supremely unconcerned, and John trusts him to know his own limits. He lets go of Harold's wrist. Harold slides John's belt out of its loops, leaves it coiled on the bed with John's shirt. The matter-of-fact way he unbuttons John's fly has John curling his toes. He rests his fingers on Harold's shoulders, feeling light and tingly all over, with the exception of the heavy ache at his groin.

 

Harold simply nuzzles him at first, brushes his closed lips across sensitive skin. John quivers. He's gazing down at Harold's head bent over his lap and he can't quite believe his luck. He rubs Harold's back in a soothing way and Harold breathes out through his nose, John feels the puff of air. Harold leans his elbows on John's knees. He curls his right hand around the base of John's cock and directs the head towards his mouth, his thick pink tongue darting out to catch a dribble of fluid. He suddenly makes an eager noise and presses much closer, and John's breath rasps out of him.

 

Harold licks him with increasingly bold strokes. He doesn't bob his head, but he doesn't need to, his hand takes care of the motion, pushing John's erection this way and that. John finds himself murmuring encouragements. "Yeah...just there...ahhhh Harold..." He closes his eyes and tips his head back. One of his hands moves to the top of Harold's head, absently resting on his spiky hair.

 

Wet heat and slow suction, Harold cautiously taking him into his mouth. John's hips flex, his fist tightens involuntarily. He has a handful of Harold's hair in his grip, and beneath him Harold makes another noise. "Sorry," John groans, flattening his hand out with an effort, lifting it away. He doesn't want to hurt Harold. But then Harold reaches out with his free hand, squeezes John's fingers, and presses them back there, firm against his scalp.

 

John cracks his eyes open, dares to look down again. The view is nearly enough to make him come. His shaft disappearing into Harold's mouth, Harold's lips sealed tight around. Harold's eyes are closed, and the quiet ecstasy on his face is clear as anything.

 

"Finch, you've been holding out on me," John tells him, strained. "You look so...fucking hot, I can't, and that suit..." He watches as the blush travels from Harold's ears across his cheeks.

 

Then Harold tilts his head to one side, and the tip of John's cock gently pushes at the inside of Harold's cheek. The shape of it on the outside is obscene. Harold rocks back on his heels and it disappears, he pushes forward and it returns. With the hand not fisted in his hair, John cups Harold's face so he can feel himself, strokes his thumb across the lump in Harold's cheek. He feels himself cross the point of no return, and tries to hold off a little longer, withdrawing from the heat of Harold's mouth in a hurry. John desperately wants this not to end yet, but by chance Harold's thumbnail catches at a pulsing vein and his body isn't listening. He comes, not in Harold's mouth but on his _face_. John curses, tries to apologize, but Harold is chuckling, taking it on the chin, quite literally. His eyes are squeezed shut and he's smiling broadly. He continues to rub John's softening cock until John squirms and moves his hand away.

 

He helps Harold off the floor. They sit together on the bed.

 

"Well." Harold reaches up to slide his glasses off his nose. "How was that, for my first attempt?" He retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeds to clean his glasses with it. He dabs a little at his jaw and forehead but he's going to need a thorough wash. John still can't believe he did that to him.

 

"As usual, you're an overachiever." He growls, dragging Harold to him again with an arm around his back. Harold beams at that, and tucks his sticky face into John's chest.


End file.
